


Consequences

by Zimithrus1



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Affection, Cloud takes no shit, Disappointed Zack, Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Wounded Cloud, light fluff, what were you thinking trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimithrus1/pseuds/Zimithrus1
Summary: The bandage stings as it wraps around his arm. The antiseptic underneath makes it itch. The cut underneath the antiseptic makes it burn. And he wants nothing more than to tear his arm away, scratch at the wound he knows is scabbing, and run far, far away from here.But he can’t.Because if he breaks away now, he’s just going to be in even deeper shit.“What were you thinking, Cloud…?”
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love the whole 'A tending to B's wounds while chiding B how reckless they are because they're somehow wounded' 😍And while in this fic Cloud isn't seriously hurt, I just really wanted to play around with the scenario~ 💚 I hope you enjoy it~!

The bandage stings as it wraps around his arm. The antiseptic underneath makes it itch. The cut underneath the antiseptic makes it burn. And he wants nothing more than to tear his arm away, scratch at the wound he knows is scabbing, and run far, far away from here.

But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the tile below the exam table and fight the pressure in his gut and the tension in his head. Because if he breaks away now, he’s just going to be in even deeper shit.

“What were you thinking, Cloud…?” The voice that fuels his pressure and tension scolds with a disapproving sigh.

He only raises his mismatched eyes because he’s spoken to, but when his warped, wounded vision catches the tense, disappointed look in his mentor’s eyes he’s quick to aim his sights back to the tile.

“I really thought we made progress with these outbursts…” The voice sighs again but tightens the bandage around his cut arm firmly, tearing off the rest and fastening it down.

He winces from the sting and makes the faintest of noises, clenching the hand to his injured arm into a fist to stifle any other sound that dares to try and escape.

“...Thought you promised me you’d stop getting into fights...”

A gloved hand reaches to his chin, fingers tucking underneath before they lift his head up and effectively cut his gaze from the tile. Now he has no choice but to look at his mentor.

The disappointed look in his Mako eyes still remains and his brow is nearly a straight line. Though his mouth has a slight downward curl even as he sighs hard enough to blow a single strand of black hair from his face. He carefully moves Cloud’s bandaged arm back to his side but keeps his head up with his other hand.

“And yet here we are again－sitting in the infirmary, patching you up and rolling up the metaphorical newspaper.” 

“Zack, it’s…” Cloud’s voice finally decides to make an appearance, though it’s hoarse and raw from earlier growling and yelling. “…not like I wanted to.” He doesn’t move his head but his eyes dart to the side and stare at a poster warning about influenza symptoms.

“Says the guy who threw the first punch?” His mentor softly shakes his head.

His brow narrows a little and it makes his black eye throb like a tiny drum. So what if he was the first to throw a punch? _He_ was the one who－

“Cloud… if you keep this up you’re going to get kicked out of the Apprentice program.” His mentor moves his hand from holding his chin and instead those gloved hands find their way to his upper arms and squeezes them softly. “And if that happens then _I_ can’t keep _my_ promise to help you make SOLDIER… So, no more fights, _for real_ this time… Okay?”

He knows. He knows very well that initiating fights with his fellow apprentices count as strikes to a metaphorical record. Too many tallies on the record would strike him out to being a normal cadet again and bar him from re-entering the Apprentice program for an entire year. Not to mention he’d never get reassigned to the same mentor upon reapplication.

And he couldn’t have that.

Zack was going out on a limb to train him like this. He’s practically a fresh First-class, and normally they can’t take part in the Apprentice program unless they’ve been one for at least a year. They could mentor Third-classes no problem in the Mentoring program, but the Apprentice program trained hand-picked infantrymen as an earlier gateway to make SOLDIER. There's more accountability, responsibility, and liability here. (And paperwork.)

He knows these things, and he knows he’s tallied up a decent number of strikes with all his brawls among the other apprentices, but…

“...He had it coming.” Cloud finds himself muttering as his eyes blankly read the influenza poster on the wall.

Zack groans and tilts his head back, hands dropping the gentle hold on his arms as they reach up and drape themselves over his face.

“ _Clooooud!_ ” He drawls, voice muffled through the leather gloves. “That’s not…” He yanks his hands from his face and rights his head back down. “…The kind of attitude I want to hear from you!”

Cloud scowls at the influenza poster as though his eyes burn holes through the sick looking smiley face with a thermometer in its wobbly mouth, looking just as miserable as he does.

“Do you _like_ fighting with your allies?? What, Cloud?” Zack’s voice raises a step. “You pick a fight with one of them because they said you were short－” He holds up a hand and counts his offense on his finger. “You pick a fight with another one because you mistook an accident as ill intent－” Another finger. “And you scrap with another because they tripped you?” He holds up three fingers and furrows his black brows.

Cloud hisses and clenches his pants tightly, still glaring at that stupid sick poster he unknowingly decided to project himself onto.

“So why’d you fight this one? Did he say something that may have _ruffled your feathers?_ Or because you read the room wrong, or－”

“ _He was degrading us!!”_ Cloud snarled, ripping his eyes away from the poster and glaring hard at his mentor. “ _He_ _-_ _he said_ _－_ _”_ Tears started to brew in his eyes. Just remembering it made him angrier, more upset, more turbulent… ashamed of himself.

When he saw the tears, Zack’s eyes softened and something foreign in them shined.

“...He said… that I was only in the Apprentice program because I was a- a no-talent _twink_ sleeping with you for an easy ride… and… he said you only made First-class because you- you were Angeal’s lapdog and kissed ass to get where you are...”

The tears made his black eye throb and sting worse and they simply billowed within, having a hard time actually escaping due to the swelling.

“So how- how could I _not_ clean that fuckhead’s clock?? He insulted _your_ integrity, _my_ pride, and _our_ relationship! He had it fucking coming!!”

“Okay… okay… I see.” Zack’s voice is quiet and mellow, but there’s a tint of soft acknowledgement in it.

Another sigh escapes his lips but it’s not annoyed or tired. He moves from his spot on the exam table, scooching over to sit right beside him and raises up a hand to gently plant against the side of his head.

Cloud takes the quiet cue and gently leans in until both their temples touch. It’s then his black eye finally decides to spill the tears swelling up and pours the moisture as a little stream down his cheek.

“I’m glad you stuck up for defending yours and my honor, but you _promised_ me you’d stop getting into fights…” A gloved index finger wipes away the little stream of tears from his scuffed cheek.

“...I know…” His raw anger turns into a quiet mutter.

“Seriously, Cloud. This is your fourth strike. You get one more and you’re out.”

“I know… but, what if he says something like that to me again?” Cloud shakes his head. He _wants_ to stop fighting with the others, but they just give him so many reasons _not_ to. (Especially Jenkins, that fuckhead.)

“Then you _ignore_ him, and then you talk to _me_ and _I_ will resolve the issue. That’s kinda my role as your mentor.” Zack smiles faintly and tucks a strand of butter yellow hair behind his ear. “So, why don’t you just save that fighting spirit for training next time?”

He nods.

Zack hums gently before he presses a quick kiss to his temple. “Alright, let’s get you back to the flat so we can put some ice on that eye. Then afterwards I’m going to have a talk with that aforementioned ‘fuckhead’.”

He nods again, but he does crack a grin when he hears Zack say fuckhead. _It always is funny to hear him curse._

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooo I drew some art to go along with this 👀👀 Actually I drew the art before I came up with the fic. And why you may ask? Cuuuuz I wanted to XD
> 
> [Here it is for the curious](https://zimithrus1.tumblr.com/image/640794338848309248)
> 
> And once again I really hope you enjoyed the short, simpleness~  
> (I'll work on my other fics soon I promise! I just wanted to do a lil side thing 😉)


End file.
